Johanna
by Vixin2
Summary: A little look into the life of Jean Descole before he was a villain. From the birth of a daughter to a confrontation with Target. Oneshot. Slight AU! Spoilers for Azran Legacy! Could be considered a prequel to my story 'Stubborn Mind'. I own nothing but my oc's. Rated T just in case.


**Sooo... This is the longest one shot I've ever done. I think that's worth some reviews, right? Any high fives? *Holds hand up in the air expectantly, only to frown and take it back down* Oh... Never mind. Um... Hope you enjoy this, and remember. This has a combination of Azran Legacy spoilers as well as some AU for my story 'Stubborn Mind'.**

**P.S: Bonus points to whomever can catch the small reference from 'A Street Car Named Desire'.**

* * *

Desmond stared at the doctor. Hearing the news, his mouth gapped lightly, and no words could form coherently in his mind. Not too long ago, he had been in the room. Holding his darling wife's hand as she brought their child into the world. But something was apparently wrong. His focus had only been on Lucy who just seemed to become paler by the moment. It certainly hadn't been any better by the time their new-born daughter's wails were heard. She had chuckled weakly. But then the doctor and nurses started talking about something worrying. Desmond had been pushed out of the room before he could even question what was wrong.

"I… I'm sorry…" Desmond found his voice. It was shaky but he was able to at least try and say what he was trying to get across. "Could you… Could you repeat that?" The doctor, tall with a pointed nose and a face covered in unshaven stubble sighed warily.

"You have a healthy baby girl, Professor Sycamore. I'm afraid however that your wife lost too much blood during labour. There's nothing we can do."

Desmond swallowed thickly. This couldn't actually be happening. It had to have been a cruel joke by the hospital. A cruel joke he would sue them for if that was the case. He would have preferred it to be a joke though when he looked at the older man's face.

"Is… Is she still…?"

"Just barely. She wanted to hold your daughter for a moment before you came in."

"Th-thank you," Desmond mumbled as the doctor stood aside and entered the sterile room. The faint smell of blood came to his nose, but he was much more concerned about the woman lying on the bed. Once healthy light skin was covered in perspiration and a deathly pale shade. Even her lovely blondish brown hair had lost its lovely waves and looked a little lanky. Though her green eyes still shined as she looked fondly down on a pink wrapped bundle. The being inside shifting around in a lightly.

"She's beautiful…" Lucy rasped, even her voice sounding weak. Desmond just barely noticed the nurses present as he walked to his wife's side and looked down at their baby with a weak smile. She was beautiful. There was a bit of blonde fluff on her head that would likely darken to match either Lucy's hair colour or his own brunette hair.

"She's perfect," Desmond murmured. Lucy looked up to Desmond. Smiling even when her lips trembled.

"Care to hold your daughter, Desmond?" Desmond was a bit unsure, but as Lucy lifted her arms up lightly, Desmond was quick but careful to take hold of their baby. It felt a bit… odd. He never did imagine he would ever be a father. But as he looked down at his child, it slowly began to feel right. Like it was meant to be.

"I hope she has your eyes…" Lucy's eyes fluttered. Noticing this, Desmond panicked and quickly took hold of one of her hands, still holding their baby in the other arm.

"I think your eyes would suit her better, dear," Desmond said, placing a kiss against Lucy's knuckles.

"So you say. But, could you promise me something?"

"Don't… Don't start with that. Please."

"Desmond…"

"This isn't supposed to end like this." Desmond's hand was shaking. "We were supposed to be together until I died and then you follow some years later."

"Just, please," Lucy went on, smiling sadly. "Keep her safe? Our little Johanna?"

"I… I'll keep her safe," Desmond choked, trying to fight back tears. "She'll be safe and no one will harm her. Ever!"

"Thank you, love," murmured Lucy. "I'm sorry I'm leaving you like this."

"Not your fault. I… I should have gotten us here quicker, I-."

"You did what you could," Lucy said firmly. "You got us here, and that's all that matters. The most you have to worry about is explaining our sudden absence to Raymond." There was a little humour in her voice. Her attempt at humour being better then Desmond's from what most people had seen. Not that it was hard to have better jokes then the archaeologist. "Just, be the best father you can… Can be. Tell her… Tell her how much I… I love, her." She was sounding weaker and weaker, and Desmond's hand shuck as he tried to keep himself from breaking down then and there.

"Of course I will. Even if you hadn't said it I would."

"I know... But it doesn't hurt to remind… To remind… You…" Lucy's eyes became half lidded before closing for one last time. Her hand slowly becoming limper then a ragdoll's. Desmond shuck, unable to bring himself to let go. To let go and face the reality of this situation. The nurses present stayed quiet, much to Desmond's relief.

He tensed as he heard sniffling coming from the bundle in his arm. Sniffling that soon became crying. How fitting. Closing his eyes, Desmond leaned down to kiss Lucy's forehead and then her lips for a final time, before reluctantly letting go of her hand and placing it over her heart. He then sat down in the nearest chair.

"Hi there," Desmond spoke weakly to his daughter, his smile just as weak. "I'm your papa." He sniffed, trying to blink away tears and failing. "And I… And I think I know just how you feel right now." He held her close to his chest. Trying to keep himself from breaking down in sobs as he tried to soothe his child, and rub her back through the pink wrap. But those cries… His wife…

Tears fell against his will as he began to silently cry. Gritting his teeth to try and keep his pride. But this day, cruel and kind, had damaged him. Even if not physically.

It took a little longer than usual for Lucy's funeral to happen. Usually it was three days after the death, but Desmond had delayed it for three reasons. The first, most importantly, to try and settle into the role of single father. It was easier then it could have been with Raymond's help, but the young man still wanted to try and do some things on his own. The second reason was that he wanted to try and get a firm grip on his emotions, though that wasn't too important. And finally he wanted Lucy's funeral to be perfect. He looked thought over her favourite songs and pieces, ordered her favourite flowers (mixtures of lilies and forget-me-nots), picked out her pale blue dress and some of her jewellery that he thought would go well with it. Though Lucy would look beautiful no matter what in his eyes.

The wake service was a peaceful one, and quiet. Friends of both his and Lucy came, though a majority of them were Lucy's. While he wasn't anti-social as such, he wasn't exactly the type to just go and make friends, and the few he had (besides Raymond) were mostly colleagues. The family attending was also just Lucy's. His adoptive parents had died during his time in college. Old age for the one he called father for most of his life, followed by the one he called mother. They had both been fairly old when they adopted him, but they had had poor luck in having a child of their own. And his birth parents…

He didn't really want to talk them. There was some bitterness towards them. It wasn't so strong towards his mother (it was weak to be honest), and he felt very capable of trying to restart their relationship again if they ever had the fortune. Even though she would be busy with work, she always seemed ready to push it aside for a little while to pay attention to Desmond and his brother. His father on the other hand… Well, he hadn't exactly been completely absent in all his life. He always made time for Desmond, his brother Theodore (or rather, Hershel now) and his wife, Rachel during holidays, birthdays and most special events. Leon had remembered details that every father should know of their child.

But then there was archaeology. Outside those events mentioned, Leon would always be in his office going through paper after paper, books after books of details relating to an ancient civilization called the Azran. There were never too many special moments (if any) just for the sake of it. Unless you counted those times that Leon and Rachel had taken their sons with them on digs. And in the end, while Leon did in the end prove some love by trying to defend his wife while Desmond tried to comfort his scared brother before the parents were dragged away, Desmond felt…

Well… Desmond wasn't sure what he felt towards his father other than bitterness. Anger perhaps? Though even when he was growing up with his adoptive parents, he did always slightly hope to meet his parents again. A childish hope.

"Desmond…" Desmond came away from his thoughts and inwardly cringed. They were in the funeral home, and he was mindlessly shaking hands with each person coming in to pay their respects. He held Johanna in one arm, no intention of letting her go to anyone else other than Raymond who stood silently by his side.

As for why he cringed though, the short man in front of him with round ears like a mouse and a thick moustache alongside a Lucy duplicate with nearly grey hair, brown eyes and more sharper and stern features. His in-laws never cared much for him. They just tolerated him for Lucy's sake, though they always thought she could do better.

"Daniel. Patricia," Desmond responded. Nodding politely. Patricia looked at Johanna and gave what most would think of as a smile towards her. Desmond thought she was making an attempt at bending the straight lie of her mouth and barely getting the corners up.

"So, this is our little granddaughter," she cooed in a sweet tone. Simply sweet to others, but in Desmond's ears the amount of sweetness was gaudy.

"Yes. Her name's Johanna. Johanna Emily Sycamore," Desmond said, ignoring the raised brow from the pair.

"Not Johanna Lucy Sycamore. After her mother?" Daniel said snidely. He was the source of Lucy's green eyes, though they looked dull on him compared to how Lucy's shined in Desmond's opinion.

"We already talked through names and Lucy wanted to use Emily for her grandmother," Desmond answered dryly. Their faces softened, though not much.

"I see."

"We wish to discuss something important with you after the funeral. Next Friday?" It didn't sound like he was being given a choice, and after gritting his teeth to hold back something he could regret and answered,

"Friday's okay."

"Good then." Patricia gave another smile to Johanna who coincidently started to get fussy and seemed to try and move closer to her father. If he had it in him, Desmond would have smiled a bit in amusement at what he considered perfect timing. Instead he just started to try and soothe her while his in-laws walked away.

"So, how much do you wish to bet that this involves how Johanna is raised?" Desmond asked Raymond quietly.

"I couldn't say for certain, Master. But try not to do anything rash, please."

"With them, I'm surprised I haven't snapped already," Desmond muttered.

The funeral itself ended peacefully and soon it was time to carry Lucy's coffin to the graveyard. It was the only time that day Desmond let go of his daughter, giving her to Raymond, while he went to carry the coffin alongside others. Doing so caused a lump in his throat, but he ignored it and swallowed down his tears. He refused to breakdown here.

When the coffin was lowered, Desmond kissed the top of Johanna's head. Reminding himself he still had his daughter. When the time came to throw in the roses, Desmond was the first to pick one up, but had waited to be last. To take a few deep breaths. Walking to the edge, he stared down solemnly at the coffin. He held the rose close to Johanna's hand first. Almost making it look as though she was holding it herself along with him, before dropping the last flower on the coffin. Landing right on the gold cross that represented a faith Desmond no longer had, and lost years before now. This moment only nailed the last nail in that coffin.

"So, what was it you wish to discuss?" Desmond asked calmly. He was in his London townhouse. A bit bigger then what he suspected his in-laws expected him to have. He couldn't say he really enjoyed having tea with them, but he would try to be polite for Lucy's sake. Even if she was no longer here.

"We'll cut to the chase," Daniel said after placing his cup down. "We want custody of Johanna."

It was a good thing Desmond was just placing his own cup down because his grip had loosened, making the cup make a little noise as it came down on the saucer.

"… I'm sorry, but what?" Desmond questioned calmly. Deathly calm.

"We have every right to our granddaughter and to give her the life she deserves," Patricia sniffed. "We believe that since it is just you now after our daughter's tragic death, you are incapable of raising Johanna on your own."

"I have Raymond," Desmond pointed out, trying not to glare so hard.

"Servants don't count." Desmond clenched his fists tightly. Raymond was more than just a butler to him. Raymond was perhaps the one person left that he could even consider as a trusted, loyal friend. He had been there for him when his adoptive parents had died and he had also been supportive of him when he was dating Lucy in the beginning.

"If you sign over custody now, we'll permit you to have visitation rights," Daniel explained as he took out the papers and placed it on the coffee table.

'Of course. Because once or twice a month will be enough by your standards,' Desmond thought with a sneer. He was no fool. He would not allow these… These… Lucy forgive him, but he would not allow these bastards to take away his only daughter!

"I'm sorry. But I'm afraid that won't be happening," Desmond said coolly. "Johanna is all I have left of Lucy, and if you think I'm just going to hand her over to you without a fight, well… You obviously aren't aware of just how adamant I can be."

"So we'll be going to court about this then?" Daniel looked like this was some sort of joke.

"Yes. We WILL be going to court," Desmond snapped. "I'll get lawyers to fight this, and keep your greedy hands away from my daughter."

"She's our granddaughter! We have the right!" Patricia hissed as she stood up quickly. Eyes narrowed thin as needles.

"She's MY daughter," Desmond spoke back, now on his feet. "And as I said, I'm not letting you take her away from me!"

"I don't know what Lucy saw in you," Daniel muttered as he stood up. "But it doesn't matter." He then sneered towards the archaeologist. "You'll regret not signing now. You'll be lucky to even call her on her birthday!"

"Funny. I was going to say the same to you," Desmond mocked before gesturing towards the hall. "I trust you don't need help going through the door.

"We're fully capable." Patricia left, nose in the air in a haughty manner followed by her husband. When they didn't close the door after them, Desmond used it to show some of his feelings by slamming the door shut with a loud bang. Still seething with rage, his eyes landed on the papers still on the table and went to pick them up. Ripping them up as he snarled to himself before dropping the remains on the table. It made him feel a little bit better, and he took a few deep breaths to calm his remaining rage down.

"Master?" Desmond turned around to see Raymond's worried look. Desmond's angry look faltered, and the worry he hadn't want to show did surface for a moment

"They're… They're trying to take Johanna from me…" As if on cue, crying could be heard upstairs from the nursery. "Johanna…"

"I'll go up."

"No. No I'll do it," Desmond said, declining Raymond's offer as he moved up the stairs, following his daughters wails.

The nursery was painted blue. A colour both he and Lucy had agreed would be perfect for either boy or girl. In the white crib, Johanna was crying loud as Desmond leaned down to pick her up.

"Bad dream, honey bunch?" Desmond asked calmly. "Or are you just hungry?" Desmond went over the days' timeline up to the unwelcomed arrival of Lucy's parents. "I suppose it would be about time for your bottle now. Raymond," he called downstairs. "Could you get one of Johanna's bottles, please?"

During the short wait, Desmond began cooing to his daughter. Trying to calm her down at least. Raymond soon came up. A newly heated bottle of formula milk in hand.

"Here it is, Master."

"Thank you," Desmond murmured as he took the bottle. First spilling a little milk on his hand to test the temperature. He knew Raymond would be careful with the heat anyway, but it didn't hurt to test it himself. Satisfied, he held the teat of the bottle to Johanna's mouth and smiled briefly when she did begin to suckle. Quite greedily too.

"Raymond…?"

"Yes, Master?"

"I want you to look up some of the best lawyers you can find," Desmond said calmly, looking only at Johanna. "Call them, and arrange a meeting. If they think they I'm not going to fight for my daughter, then they are severely going to regret trying to take her away."

"I'll get on it right away. Is there anything else I can do?" Desmond thought for a moment and shuck his head.

"No, that will be all for the moment."

The day of the custody hearing felt like complete hell for Desmond when the day finally came about three months later. Hearing his late wife's parents lawyers badmouth him and painting themselves in angel clothing. It made him both sick and question how Lucy was their daughter. He tried to reason at one point a couple years ago that they must have treated Lucy well and with kindness for her to turn out the way she did. But right now, he saw no possible relation between the two.

It didn't help his nerves either that his daughter was currently in another room, held by security until it was decided on whom she went with. Even when he told himself he would be holding her soon, he still felt ill from the thoughts of never seeing her again. It made him feel mildly better to have Raymond by his side. It was good to have some kind of support. Especially during the torment of waiting for the judge to come back in and give his decision. While they weren't showing it, Daniel and Patricia seemed fairly smug. Oh, if they weren't in a courtroom…

"All rise," the bailiff said just before the elderly judge came back in. All rose and Desmond felt his hands quiver. His lawyers, James Derling and Michelle Beetle were good. They were able to point out common sense and were much more subtle then his in-laws in portraying people. Not that he had to be portrayed in any particular way other than the truth.

The judge glanced to both parties briefly before he began.

"It wasn't an easy decision. Both parties do have right to see Johanna Sycamore. However, after taking everything into consideration, I believe it is only right that full custody be granted to Professor Desmond Sycamore.

"Court is dismissed."

The gavel banged, and for a moment Desmond almost didn't believe what he heard. He was so used to things being taken away from him that he…

He was keeping his only child. That's all that mattered now.

He almost wanted to jump up in joy but refrained himself from doing so. Instead, he chose to walk out of the courtroom calmly, throwing a smirk to Daniel and Patricia who still seemed gobsmacked by the news while their lawyer looked very nervous.

"I want to thank you for your help, James and Michelle," Desmond said once they stepped outside and shuck their lawyers' hands.

"Think nothing of it," James, young man in his twenties (nearly thirties) with slicked back blonde hair said with a smile. Michelle, a middle-aged woman with dark, ringlet curls nodded in agreement.

"Yes. We're just doing our job."

'For the money I paid you,' Desmond thought dryly to himself, but kept a smile on his face. The smile became more genuine when the guard holding Johanna came up to him to hand her over.

"I think someone missed their daddy."

"I bet she did," Desmond chuckled, taking hold of Johanna and kissing the top of her head. The little girl instantly tried to hide her face in her father's neck.

"She's such a cutie," Michelle cooed.

"Yeah, she's real sweet." James stopped to check his watch. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get ready for a date with a cute French girl in a couple hours."

"Yes, good luck with that," Desmond said with a hint of uncaring before leaving with Raymond and his daughter.

"I think that went quite well, Master."

"It did, didn't it?" Desmond agreed. "I… I was actually worried during it all." Desmond smiled down at Johanna. "But we made it through with our heads held high."

"Do you think Miss Johanna's grandparents will try to visit?" Desmond thought it over and answered,

"I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't. It seemed their pride was badly damaged back there. Though I personally don't have the intention of letting them even in the same building as Johanna. We don't need those nasty people anyway? Do we?" Desmond asked Johanna, gently poking her belly to tickle her.

Hehehe…

Desmond stopped and looked at Johanna in surprise, before poking her belly again, receiving another giggle in response.

"She… She laughed…" Desmond murmured, an almost dazed look on his face. There was another giggle (not caused by belly poking this time), Johanna smiling up at him. "It's… It's, beautiful…"

While he wasn't going to give up work, Desmond planned to be there for his daughter as often as he could outside work. He couldn't exactly say it was easy. A few years as an archaeologist wasn't going to make him rich right away, though he was rising high quickly enough through his career. Johanna was already crawling about, which meant Desmond and Raymond had to be extra careful that nothing was left on the floor that she might decide to play with or even eat.

He would do his best to play with her. He would just lie on the floor with her and mess around with any toy that caught Johanna's interest. It was amusing to see her each out for toys with a look of fascination in her eyes. Over the several months since she was born, Johanna's eye colour had finally developed. He was a bit disappointed that they weren't the same green eyes Lucy bore, but instead his own red ones. But they did suit her nicely. They especially looked nice whenever she smiled or laughed. They just seemed to have an extra shine to them then.

Months went by, and the pain of Lucy's death was still with him. However, it did begin numbing. Around the time Johanna said her first word.

He had just returned from work, and wanted to spend time with Johanna before Raymond had dinner ready and then spend about an hour on some paperwork, before spending more time with Johanna before putting her in her crib for sleep and then spending the rest of the night before bed to himself with a book or a little piano.

"Hello, honey bunch. Have you been good for Raymond?" Desmond asked as he sat down by his infant. Johanna looked up at him, chewing on a teething ring as she held it with one hand. She didn't appear to be in the same discomfort that she had when she began to teeth, so that was good.

Smiling, Desmond took Johanna onto his lap.

"Your first birthday won't be too far away," Desmond remarked, hiding a stab of pain in his heart. It was also the anniversary of Lucy's passing. The only black spot on such a good day. But he wouldn't let that ruin Johanna's day. Although, he would like to visit Lucy's grave. Both out of respect and for the fact he hadn't visited since last month. Maybe it would be good to bring Johanna along.

But he returned his attention to his daughter and smiled as he poked her belly, making her giggle. He thought in the beginning it was a coincidence, but he was beginning to think she had gotten his ticklish stomach.

"I wonder what you would like for your birthday," he mused aloud. While there was still time, he had begun looking through some stuff. He definitely wanted to get something educational, as well as something that was just a fun toy for babies Johanna's age. He hadn't noticed Johanna's mixtures or gurgles too much as she looked up at him. Teething ring now out of her mouth.

"… Da… Dada?"

Desmond froze. Had he heard correctly? Was it just his mind? He looked down at Johanna, a little unsure but also hopeful.

"Did… Did you just…?"

"Da… Dada," Johanna said. A bit more strongly this time. The surprised look on Desmond's face slowly vanished and replaced with a look of awe. Dada. She just said her first word, and it was him!

"Yes… Yes, I'm dada," Desmond confirmed, no shame about his look of pride.

"Dada, dada." Desmond laughed and kissed his daughter's head several times. A look on his face similar to that of a boy in a sweet shop who was just told he could have everything for free. A look that Raymond certainly wouldn't forget when he came in, much to his amusement.

Time had been difficult on occasion. It was hard sometimes, but as of yet there was nothing Desmond couldn't overcome. Years had gone by, and his love for his beloved Lucy remained strong as had his love for his only child. Six years old, previously five until two months ago, Johanna had grown into a very pretty girl whom most would consider cute. Growing up, Desmond had noticed that she looked a great deal like his birth mother. The exceptions being that Johanna had his eyes and her hair was the same blondish brown colour as Lucy's. She was a sweet child, albeit a bit shy. But she was curious and liked to like to sing along with some songs her papa played on the piano.

"… _Remember darling, in sleep I watch over you._" Johanna finished the last words of the lyrics, leaving Desmond to finish off on the piano. She clutched the creamy white teddy bear she named Sha Sha in one arm. A present from her birthday she didn't want to let go of right now.

"That was very lovely Johanna," Desmond praised before leaning down to kiss her forehead, making her giggle lightly.

"Thank you, papa." Johanna smiled up at him before it faltered slightly. "Did mum like the piano?"

"She did like to hear me play," Desmond sighed wistfully. "Especially when she was pregnant with you. She insisted you liked it. I think you were kicking more during that time."

"What exactly, happened to mum?" Desmond frowned. He had given enough detail so Johanna understood that her mother would never be coming back. But he never actually said how it happened. But he knew he couldn't just brush it aside right now, so he calmly picked Johanna up and sat down in the nearest armchair.

"You know how I explained to you were babies came from?" Okay, he obviously didn't go into full details there. Just enough.

"Yeah! From mummies who cuddle papas extra hard on a bed," Johanna nodded her head. "And then they come out of the mummy."

"Yes, well… Sometimes things happen when the baby is born." Desmond sounded a bit unsure as he spoke, but he had to do this. "Sometimes, mummies aren't able to continue on. In your mother's case, she lost some blood."

"Blood?" Johanna furrowed her brows. "Like, that red stuff on my knee when I tripped in the street one time?"

"Yes," Desmond nodded his head. "She lost a lot of that red stuff and just couldn't continue on without it, and the doctors couldn't help much." Johanna frowned as she thought this over. Desmond held his breath. Waiting for the worst.

"… So, mum died giving birth to me?"

"That would be it, yes." Desmond held back a small cringe. He didn't know why, but hearing his sweet, innocent daughter use the word 'died' just unnerved him a bit. But he grew concerned when a slightly panicked look came over Johanna.

"So… It's my fault mum's dead?"

"No," Desmond cut across sharply, startling Johanna. He cleared his throat and started again. "No, Johanna. It's not your fault your mother is dead. These things just… Happen, sometimes."

"But… She would be hear with you if…"

"Johanna," Desmond spoke firmly. "I miss your mother deeply, and I always will. I loved her very, very much and the day we found out we were having you was one of the happiest days of our lives, and your mother was so happy the day you came to this world. So don't ever think, for even a minute, that you are at fault." Johanna stared up at her father. The look he gave her left no room for argument. Slowly she nodded.

"O-okay, papa." Desmond felt himself relax. He didn't even realise he had tensed.

"Good girl." He gave her a quick hug before looking at the clock on the mantelpiece. Quarter to ten. He had to leave now. "Sorry, sweetheart. But I have to go to work now," Desmond said as he stood up and placed his daughter on the ground. "You'll be a good girl for Raymond now, won't you?"

"Yes, papa. I always am."

"And if you're good when I get back, I'll talk him into making you some of his tasty brioche." Desmond gave a wink to Johanna, causing her to giggle before she left to go upstairs. Either to play with some of her toys or read a book.

"Your briefcase, Master." Raymond came in, holding the black case containing his work.

"Thank you, Raymond," Desmond said as he took his briefcase. "I should be back by around half six."

"I'll make sure to have dinner ready by then." Saying another thank you, Desmond soon left for work.

In the years since he left college with a degree in archaeology, he had gained some fame in the field of archaeology. He was even called a Professor in the field of Ancient Ruins, much to his delight. With his work, his daughter, his life… Things seemed to look up for him.

His main focus of research, the Azran Civilization, had at first been something he had been unsure of. After what happened to his birth parents, being separated from his brother… He had had doubts on whether such a race would be worth studying. True, when he was young and planning to have revenge on the group that ruined his childhood, he had studied the Azrans from the books and notes left by his father in his study before that group came for him and Desmond's mother. Though, around the time he met Lucy, those vindictive thoughts had died down. He wasn't sure if it was because he enjoyed the feeling of love he and Lucy had, or if his mind was doing it on purpose out of fear of losing Lucy. But now, he felt no need for revenge as long as he had Johanna. And the Azrans? Well, re-reading notes and books over the last few years had stirred back up an interest he had in younger days.

Arriving in his office in one of the many museums in London (which he was adamant about keeping tidy unlike most of his colleagues), he had looked through the mail he had received that morning. The first two, just requests for interviews. The third, just a request for a meeting to discuss some Aztec ruins in Mexico, and the fourth…

Desmond frowned a bit. No stamp. No return address. Just his name, office etcetera. It unnerved him a little. While he had only been about nine at the time, he remembered finding a similar letter addressed to his parents one morning. It was about two months later (if he was correct in remembering) when Targent came to his front door.

He swallowed nervously and hesitantly took a letter opener from his desk and carefully cut the envelope open and removed the letter. Taking a deep breath, ready for the worst, he began reading.

_To Professor Sycamore,_

_It has only been recently that you have come to our attention. We have heard work of your research, mainly the research focused on the ancient Azran Civilization, and there is no doubt about it that you would be a welcomed addition to our organization, Targent._

_It is understandable that you have likely never heard of us. We do tend to keep below the radar for reasons I'm sure you understand. The knowledge of the Azrans would be highly prized and valuable to the world, though should not just be made available, ready to grab, by anyone who may have ill intentions with such potential power._

_It would be best to discuss this further. Please respond to the address at the top of this letter so that we may talk further, in private and in more detail._

_We hope to meet soon._

_Leon Bronev, Leader of Targent._

Desmond's mouth and felt dry the moment he read the first words. But the signature. 'Leon Bronev, Leader of Targent'. He… He couldn't explain how he felt. With shaky hands, Desmond placed the letter back on the table and tried to clear his head, running a hand through his hair as he took off his glasses.

This couldn't be real. His father… Where did that leave his mother then? Desmond wasn't sure if he wanted to even know.

His father. The man who, despite the occasional absence of as a child, he could still look up to his father then… Actually became their…leader? No. No, no, no. That didn't make sense. How? Why?

Desmond reread the letter and thought again. For a split second, he entertained the fantasy that it was just a person who (coincidently) had the same name. Such a naïve and stupid idea. Perhaps someone using his father's name? No, that didn't make sense. There was no logical reason for that to happen.

Desmond clenched the paper tightly in his fist, clenching his teeth painfully tight together. Whatever was going on exactly, he was certain of one thing. Unless there was a genuine and reasonable explanation for everything, his fa-… Leo-… Bronev, was as good as a traitor to the family he once had. He may as well be good as dead.

He also knew that he wasn't going to bloody respond. Instead, Desmond took small delight in ripping the letter apart again, and again, and again. He briefly considered using a lighter (a birthday present he received from a colleague who thought he was a smoker much to his annoyance) to burn the pieces. Just for the heck of it. But changed his mind and just simply dumped the ripped remains in the bin before starting on his work for the day.

The following weeks, everything had gone on as normal. For some time, the letter became a forgotten memory. He barely recalled what it said except for the important factors.

It was around mid-January and there was still a little snow in London. It was seven at night when Desmond was sitting in his office, trying to get work done quicker so he could return home to Raymond and Johanna. It didn't help that the paperwork seemed extra dull today. He couldn't help but scowl every now and then. A knock came to his door. Desmond grunted and called out,

"It's open." Hearing it creak open, Desmond waited for the other person to speak.

"Busy, are you?" Desmond's writing came to a sudden stop. He recognised that voice. It had been so long, but hearing it now he just instantly recognised it.

"I… Yes. Very busy. Have to get this work done," Desmond mumbled as he started writing again, forcing himself not to flinch as he heard his door close. Pausing again, Desmond took a deep breath and looked behind him.

Leon Bronev. About twenty seven years had been decent to him, if Desmond had to be honest. Appearing younger than your actual age seemed to be a trait in his family if he wasn't mistaken. Bronev's hair had changed though. He grew it out more and he grew a beard which gave a lion's mane appearance, while he wore blue tinted glasses to cover his eyes. Desmond returned his focus to his work.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I know you," Desmond said calmly. It would be best to play the innocent, naïve person card for now. Whether or not Bronev recognised him, it wouldn't do to be found out like this.

"Leon Bronev. I believe you received my letter?" Desmond shut his eyes tightly and inhaled deeply before responding,

"I think I did. You represent… Targent, wasn't it?"

"I am indeed. Forgive me for my sudden appearance, but we still had yet to hear a response from you," Bronev explained. "I thought perhaps your letter must have simply gotten lost somehow."

"I didn't send one," Desmond stated bluntly. "I have no interest, and I don't have the time."

"… Oh? Is that so?"

"Yes." 'Not to mention I'd rather not have my research practically stolen right from my hands.'

"Such a shame," Bronev noted. Desmond heard him walk around the room slowly. "It would be a worthwhile decision if you agreed after all. The Azran's power could make the world a better place, wouldn't you say?"

"… I suppose it would," Desmond grudgingly agreed. He couldn't really deny that. If the Azran's were as advanced as evidence so far suggested…

Desmond quickly shuck his head.

"But I'm quite happy where I am right now."

"You're certain?"

"I am." Desmond was muttering in his mind for the old man to just leave already. But instead of his mental pleads, he heard Bronev walk up behind him until his shadow fell over Desmond. He paused mid writing and and just barely swallowed.

"We haven't met before, have we? Something about you feels… Familiar."

Desmond was actually tempted to confirm these thoughts. Maybe if Bronev knew who he was, he'd leave him alone. Not to mention it would be a good opportunity to find out what happened to his mother. But he decided against it. There was nothing worth the risk.

"No," Desmond lightly shuck his head. "I'm afraid I don't remember you from anywhere."

"I could have sworn… Never mind…" Desmond began thinking of some way to get this man to leave peacefully, without having to see him again. He flinched when Bronev reached over his shoulder to pick up a picture of himself and Johanna.

"… Daughter?"

"… Yes." He couldn't deny it.

"You're married I take it then?"

"Widower."

"I apologise for your loss." Desmond wanted to snort at that. "It's never easy to lose a loved one. I can actually sympathise with you there." Desmond frowned. He wasn't sure if it would be a good thing to ask, but there was no way he could avoid asking the question since he had an opportunity.

"A wife?"

"Lung infection about ten years ago. Pneumonia. Doctor's couldn't do anything." Desmond shut his eyes again. It appeared that one of the thoughts he had as a child, while comforting his crying brother as their parents were dragged away was true after all. He never would see his mother again. The last image of her he would ever had would be of her telling those brutes not to hurt her children as she tried to keep her tears in. Trying not to make her children more scared then they already was.

"I'm… sorry to hear that." It was have true. He was sorry that his mother died. He just didn't pity Bronev too much. Said man didn't say anything though he did put the picture back.

"I have to go now. But I'll try meeting up with you again. I did catch you at an inconvenient time." Desmond rolled his eyes in frustration as Bronev backed away. "We can talk later."

"As I've already said, I'm not interested. But thank you anyway." The last part was forced out and Desmond just wanted to scream aloud at the older male. Bronev said no more, and let himself out. As soon as the door shut and he heard footsteps fade away, Desmond groaned in frustration and rested his head on the desk. He wasn't even going to bother how Bronev seemed to easily come to his office as though he worked here.

He looked back up at the picture of himself and Johanna and frowned. It wasn't possible that Bronev could have recognised the resemblance between Johanna and Rachel. Could he? It wasn't a very comfortable thought, and it almost made him feel ill at the possibility of what could happen.

Looking back at his work, he decided he would just take it home with him now. He could finish it off after putting Johanna to bed.

With that in mind, he quickly packed, threw on his coat and locked his office before leaving outside. It was still cold, and Desmond almost cursed for forgetting his scarf this morning.

Still, he wasn't too far from home. A twenty minute walk at most, and he was almost there anyway. But nearing one street corner, he paused his walk and looked around. Would it be paranoid of him to believe he was being followed? It wasn't too unbelievable. Especially with Targent. He bit on his lip nervously before turning in a different direction. A little detour wouldn't hurt. One turn here, another there. He soon spotted a small café he occasionally went to for lunch. A little coffee to sharpen his nerves and a little waiting and he should be good. He just had to make use of the payphone outside first.

He didn't go into too much detail when Raymond answered the phone. All he said was that he was held up with helping a friend with something and that he would be a little late home that night. Raymond however seemed to know something was wrong. But either way, Desmond wasn't going to reveal anything. At least, not at the moment. Later on perhaps.

So it was that Desmond found himself sitting alone at a in the café. A cup of good coffee ever so slowly losing its boiling heat while he looked through his work. It was a bit more relaxing here. Maybe it was the relaxed atmosphere, the fact that he was currently the only customer there apart from two people sitting somewhere behind him or the smell of his beverage. But he was currently at peace and that was all that mattered.

"… 'Ow many times do I 'ave to say it tonight. I am not interested in you." Desmond raised a brow at the conversation behind him, the speaking voice clearly sounding of French origin. He didn't look back, but there was a mirror not too far from him that he glanced at. He could make out the man. Not too far away from his own age. Fair haired, and a little handsome when you looked past his crooked nose. Though currently that look of annoyance on his face wasn't doing any favours.

"And I'm just asking for one date," he said calmly. "What, am I not good enough for you?"

"You're an egotistic jerk, for one." Desmond couldn't really see the Frenchwoman since her back was to the mirror. But her reasonably long hair was a light brown. Desmond also had a rare moment of not being able but to help himself and look at what he could of her body. Having been celibate since Lucy's death, it was a bit hard on one or two occasions to not let his eyes appreciate for a moment the lovely curves of the female form (very lovely in this case). Though as said before, such a thing was rare. So rare he hardly did it, really. But now…

"I prefer men who actually know to 'old a conversation and keep it interesting. We don't even 'ave anything in common." Desmond could hear the sharpness in her voice. Clearly no one pushed her around without her biting back.

"We work at the same plac-."

"You work with 'istorical documents, and I take care of business at the museum and go on digs when I can. We do completely different things." Desmond raised a brow with mild interest.

"We like history."

"Different types," she countered back, sounding bored. "Besides, aren't you transferring next month? Somewhere in Scotland?"

"Well… Yes. My mother's a bit on the poor side and I want to be closer to her." Whether or not this was true, the way he said it seemed as though he was trying to show he was a good, sweet guy.

Pathetic.

"Considering 'ow you think constantly badgering me for a date will work, I feel sorry for your poor mother. Sick or not." Desmond almost had to chuckle at that. But he kept it in. No use making this day more uncomfortable then it had already been.

"Are you insulting my mother?!"

"No, I'm insulting you. Wasn't I clear?"

"Why, you-."

Seeing him reach to grab her in the mirror's reflection, Desmond was going to come to her defence. What sort of gentleman would he be if he didn't? However the lady reacted first.

_Smack!_

While it had been in self-defence, Desmond still winced at that slap. He could have sworn he felt the sting himself. The woman was standing now, and Desmond was certain that whatever look she was giving the stunned man, it could have made her the epitome of wrath.

"Don't even think you can touch me!" she spat. "I told you already I 'ad no interest in you and if you don't stop, I will report it. Do I make myself clear?" She hadn't given him a chance to respond and stood up, grabbing her coat and pulling it on quickly.

"Allow me to say that you will not be missed by me." After that she moved to leave. Desmond noted the man's glaring at her though, as the lady left. Feeling a bit uneasy about this man, he discretely got out of his chair as quietly as he could before the man shot up and seemed prepared to chase her down.

Desmond was quicker however and grabbed his arm.

"Hey-!"

"I believe the young lady told you to leave her be," Desmond said calmly. "I'm inclined to believe her side of the story from what I heard, especially after seeing you try to grab her. So I suggest you leave her alone, and wherever you do move to, don't bother her."

"What, you know her?"

"Never seen her before in my life," Desmond said as gave a shrugged with one shoulder. "I'm just being a good person. Better that then being a dullard who won't act. Then again, it would be a step up from you I believe."

The man's ego hit, he tried to take a swing at Desmond. Now, while Desmond was never intending to compete in the Olympics, he did do plenty of athletics in secondary school and college. Mainly parkour and fencing. And while he didn't have a ridiculous amount of muscle to show through his usual suit, he did have a good amount of upper body strength. Combined with his reflexes, Desmond had ducked the swing before shoving him hard onto the floor. His would-be attacker groaned as his head hit the ground. Desmond casually looked up to the cashier on duty. A wide eyed young woman. Possibly still in her college years unless he was mistaken.

"… It was in self-defence."

"I understand."

Desmond gave a nod in response to the quick reply and made his way back to his table to pack his papers up. It was about time he finally went home anyway.

"Are you still up, Johanna?" Desmond asked in a low voice as he looked into Johanna's room. The lamp was still on, and Johanna looked startled awake.

"Pa… Papa…?"

"Sorry I'm late home, honeybunch," Desmond said as he came in and sat on her bed. "There was some… things that I had to take care of." He noticed Johanna clutching her favourite book in her hands. The same book Lucy bought for Johanna when she was about five months pregnant. "Were you planning to stay awake until I came home?"

"Yes…" Johanna looked down as a blush came to her face. Desmond sighed and shuck his head before chuckling.

"You really should be sleeping. Little girls need their beauty sleep." Desmond took a hold of the book and opened it to the first page. "But I can read you a few pages."

"Thank you, papa." Johanna leaned up to kiss his cheek before she snuggled up against him. Desmond smiled and began to read.

"In a small town known only as Belle Reve, that was tormented night and day by the cruel sorcerer of the Forgotten Kingdom, there was a young fencer by the name of Jaques Descole..."

A month had gone by, and all was peaceful. Nothing significant had happened. As far as he knew, that woman in the café was alright and the man would likely not attempt anything before leaving for Scotland (was that where he was going? Desmond didn't care enough to remember). So, there was nothing for him to worry about.

It was a calm February night. Raymond was out for the night and Johanna was sleeping upstairs. That left Desmond alone downstairs to read a book in peace. The flames in the fireplace dimming to nothingness slowly while the clock softly ticked. Speaking of which, it was nearly half ten, and he had to be up early tomorrow.

Desmond stood up from the armchair and placed his book on the piano so he wouldn't forget it. He was about to turn off the living room light before a knock came to the door.

_Knock, knock, knock…_

Desmond frowned. He was reluctant to, but the person would probably continue knocking no matter what. They would probably go on until Johanna woke up.

Sighing, he walked to the front door and opened it up. Tired from the day and not thinking things clearly. Looking outside the door he stiffened.

"Good evening, Professor Sycamore," Bronev said calmly. Two soldiers of Targent by either side. Desmond tried to keep his worry from showing, but it was impossible when soldiers wearing the same uniform as those who stole his parents away were standing in his door.

"Bronev," Desmond acknowledged the other. "May I ask what this is about?"

"I did say we would talk again, didn't I?"

"I didn't think it would be at night or that you would need to bring help with you," Desmond replied dryly. Bronev gave a low chuckle.

"Now, now. Can't we at least pretend this is a normal reunion, Hershel?"

Desmond wasn't sure how, but it felt as though colour had indeed been drained from his face along with blood. This couldn't actually be happening. This… This was a bad dream. A very bad dream.

"Surprised?" Bronev asked innocently. "First meeting you, I felt something about you was familiar. Then there was the picture of my granddaughter…" Desmond clenched his fists. "… She looks almost exactly like her grandmother," Bronev noted, in a slightly softer tone before reverting back to a calm and cold one. "It wasn't too hard to figure everything out after that. After I became leader, I planned to bring us all back together. I never thought you would give your name to your brother though. It made the search a lot more difficult."

"Then I'm glad I did the right thing. I know I made better decisions then you have." Desmond's brief sneer was cut short when the soldiers took out their guns, along with a simple handheld one for Bronev.

"I made decisions I don't regret either," Bronev said calmly. "If not for my sake, then Rachel's."

"You're a disgrace to mother's memory."

_Click!_

Desmond winced when Bronev actually held the gun up to his chest.

"Don't make me do anything I'll regret, son." Desmond tried to think of a way out of this. His fencing kit was in his room, and he wouldn't move fast enough to avoid a likely death. A slight creak caught his ears and Desmond cursed. Of all the nights for Johanna to wake up in the middle of…

"That must be your daughter. Johanna I think you said her name was?" Desmond didn't respond. "Why not call her down?" Desmond looked at the guns and closed his eyes. He would have to go along until Raymond came back. He couldn't leave Johanna an orphan.

"J-Johanna… Can you come down, please?" Johanna must have heard some of the conversation, because while Desmond heard her, she was moving down the stairs slowly. After the final step, he felt her automatically cling to his side. No doubted a frightened and confused expression on her face.

"Good girl," Bronev muttered, reaching to pat her head before Desmond swipped it away.

"Don't touch my daughter!" He was then reminded of the other soldiers' guns and reluctantly moved back into the house, Johanna still clinging to him as Bronev came in along with his goons.

"I'll get straight to the point, 'Desmond'. Targent wants you. We're closer and closer to solving the mysteries of the Azran. We've even been able to narrow down the possible locations of the Garden of Healing. We can do it. For your mother." Desmond put a firm hand on Johanna's shoulder, trying to move her behind him a little.

"I've already given my answer, and it's still no." Bronev stared at him, and it actually did unnerve Desmond more then he would like to admit.

"… I see then. Well…" Bronev took a few steps towards him at a calm pace. It then happened so fast. A blurred object hit the side of his head, knocking him to the floor while Johanna cried out. Desmond pushed himself up as he groaned.

"Papa!"

Blinking, Desmond's eyes widened when he saw Bronev holding a struggling Johanna against his chest while he held the gun in the other.

"Consider this a motivation to join, son."

"Give me back my daughter," Desmond said quietly. "Give her back."

"She'll be safe with me. You'll see her when you join."

"Give Johanna back."

"We'll all meet again."

"GIVE ME BACK MY DAUGHTER!" Desmond yelled, pushing himself up with the intention of attacking Bronev somehow. Anything to get his daughter away from the man.

_Bang!_

Desmond gave a sharp gasp and cry as he clutched his side and dropped to his knees. Looking down, he saw the left side of his waist bleed. It hurt. The blood staining the carpet was getting worse and worse.

"Papa! Papa!" Hearing Johanna's screams, Desmond tried to force himself to stand but the pain and blood loss was working against him.

"You should have known better, Sycamore." Bronev scoffed before he turned to leave.

"Give her back… Johanna…" Desmond groaned as he tried to pull himself across. Difficult when one hand is covering a bleeding wound, but better than just lying down. It didn't help when one of the soldiers actually kicked his shoulder sending him fully flat on the ground and groaning loudly from the pressure against his wound.

Colours and figures blurred. Johanna's screams becoming echoes.

"Johanna… Johanna… J-Johanna…"

The first thing that met Desmond's eyes when he woke up was pure white, making his eyes wince a bit. Looking around, he found himself in a simple room and already quickly deduced he was in hospital. Raymond (or someone) must have found him.

"Master?!"

Desmond looked to his side and saw Raymond. He looked a mixture of relief and worry and conern.

"I… I found you bleeding on the floor, Master. You kept saying Johanna's name and I couldn't find her in the house and-."

"They stole her! Desmond exclaimed, sitting up sharply only to cringe and clutch his side.

"Take it easy, Master. The doctor's said you need to rest for a little while because of the blood loss." Desmond licked his dry lips a bit. "They were able to remove the bullet, but they said the area was likely to scar."

"I don't care…" Desmond muttered. "That… That traitorous, mutt stole my daughter!"

"Please, keep calm," Raymond said. "I know you're hurting, but you being angry isn't going to solve anything!"

Desmond held a hand to his face, groaning in frustration as he blinked away tears that dared to come out. This wasn't supposed to happen. It was never meant to happen! But it did. And now he had truly no family left. Except maybe Raymond.

"They'll pay for this…" Desmond whispered harshly. "I'll make Targent and Bronev pay for what they've done to me, and get back my daughter back!

"If it's the last thing I do!"


End file.
